


careful of the curse that falls on your lover

by rikacain



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-09-29 05:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17197466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikacain/pseuds/rikacain
Summary: On one hand, he really wants to go with Ethan because it’s his fault Ethan’s turned into a wolf and for other reasons he’s trying not to look hard at. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to see Julia. Call him selfish, call him jealous - this is the fairytale ending for Ethan - a kiss from Julia, his true love, and Ethan would turn back into a man, proven worthy of love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruthc93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthc93/gifts).



> A very happy holidays to @ineverhadadoubt, who requested anything goes an added preference for mutual pining, hurt/comfort, graphic violence being very welcome, fluff, and, if angst, angst with a happy ending in the Benthan Xmas Exchange organised by @lady-johnlocked-moriarity.
> 
> I was hoping for a short fic, but the fic and its concept really ran away with me so we might be getting two or three more chapters. I swear I will finish this, because gifts are gifts and because Mission Impossible is a fandom I keep returning to, over and over again, and I just love Benji so much.
> 
> Title from Howl by Florence + The Machine.

It takes the entirety of five seconds. 

The first, Benji's running after Ethan and the sorcerer they've been hunting for the past week. Nasty piece of work, that - born with magic powers and using them to curse normal folk for no other reason than because he could andbecause it's funny. It's not Benji's first time dealing with a sorcerer and not Ethan's either, but it's the first time they had to chase one into the forest. They usually prefer castles or some highly elevated monument; all the better to look down on the rest of the world with. 

The second, he bursts into the clearing with one hand on his slingshot and the other on his sack of inscribed stones. Ethan's got the blighter pinned to the ground, but his hands are still glowing, still free, thumping away at Ethan’s back and leaving ashy handprints on the grey vest. Probably trying to leave a nasty burn to get Ethan off him, but Benji reckons it’s a task for even a sorcerer to conjure a flame or two if someone’s bearing their full weight down on you and hitting you back. Life’s hard like that.

The third, the sorcerer’s eyes widen when he spots Benji. Maybe he thought that he could have taken Ethan by himself, or maybe he thought that a one-on-one was more favorable odds compared to two-on-one - but it doesn’t matter. The fact is, his hands stop flickering orange and instead turns an ugly green, the color of rotting artichokes, and that’s not good. That’s not good -

The fourth - Benji’s opening his mouth, trying to warn Ethan, trying to shoutwatch out, trying to grab a stone out of his sack so he can hurl it at the sorcerer’s face. The sorcerer pulls his hands back, the intense concentration of energy blocking his fingers from view, and Ethan is quickly realizing that the sorcerer isn’t trying to make him into a bonfire anymore and is attempting something else -

The fifth. Benji watches as the sorcerer slams his hands onto Ethan’s chest, the energy latching onto and seeping into Ethan’s body at an alarming rate, watches as Ethan pulls out his knife at the exact same time and shoves it through the sorcerer’s heart. It's frankly only a preference to take bounty targets alive, to let the people do to them as they would according to the local laws and customs - but it’s also a necessity to kill their targets if their lives are in danger. 

It’s a necessity now.

The sorcerer blinks slowly, before slumping away and onto the ground - but the damage is done. Benji rushes over to Ethan as he writhes on the ground, dark green tendrils wrapping around him and sinking into his skin, over and over again. Ethan moans, low and pained, and the magic should have dissipated with the sorcerer’s death, so why -so why-

A dying curse, Benji realizes, cold rushing through his body all at once. 

“Ethan,” Benji says, dropping to his knees, because what form could this curse take? There are stories, stories he heard where a dying curse left a man to slowly petrify over the years, a woman to walk eastwards and never stop until she reached the sorcerer’s homeland to bear the news and consequences of their death, a child barred from physically leaving the village despite that being their dearest wish. He desperately wants to touch Ethan, wants to ground him through whatever happens next - but if the curse decides that Benji is an equally deserving target then he won’t be of any use. If he could be of any use. “Ethan, hold on, Luther’s on his way, Ethan - “

“Benji,” Ethan chokes out, his bright eyes feverishly finding Benji’s own. “Benji - “

He breaks off into a moan again, guttural and rasping, and turns away from Benji. It gives him a full view of the hair - no, fur, dark fur growing at an alarming rate on Ethan’s arm. Ethan moans again and the moan turns lower, rougher -

Like a growl.

There’s the sound of bones and cartilage cracking and snapping, and he watches in horror as Ethan turns back to him, mindless from the pain. There's nothing Benji can do as Ethan's face elongates, as his nails turn yellow and curved and as his legs shrink upwards at an unnatural angle, nothing he can say as Ethan's ears disappear into his skin, quickly covered under a coat of midnight fur. His clothes tear apart through the expansion of his torso, and the protusion of a tail, bushy and wild.

There's nothing human about the sounds Ethan's making, not anymore. 

"Ethan," Benji says again, his voice cracking as he grabs onto Ethan, curse be damned. If they're going to be cursed then at least they're going to be wolves together, he thinks wildly - but miracle of miracles, the curse doesn't take Benji. He holds onto Ethan as his limbs crack themselves into their newly assigned places, as fur sprouts dark and thick all over Ethan's body, as Ethan snarls and snaps his teeth dangerously near to Benji's face. 

"I'm here, Ethan," Benji repeats, hoping that Ethan can hear him, can understand him. He hopes the curse leaves him that much. "I'm here."

The green hue finally dissipates, dissolving into thin air - and Benji is left only with the cooling corpse of a sorcerer, the unconscious body of his friend-turned-wolf, and himself, all alone. 

* * *

It takes only minutes for Will and Luther to reach the clearing. To Benji, it feels like an eternity. 

He's gathered all of the belongings Ethan had on him, scattered across the clearing in the wake of his transformation. The clothes are beyond repair, but the hunting knife and his crossbow feature only the slightest of scuff marks from where they've been thrown. Benji cleans the knife, wiping it onto the unstained parts of the sorceror's robe, and wraps the weapons together with a piece of twine he had on him. He'll keep them for Ethan - he can have it back when they break the curse.

Luther would know what to do. He must have encountered dying curses and the ways to break them, in his time as an enchanter. This is what Benjj tells himself repeatedly, drowning out the voice at the back of his head, reminding him of all the curses that were never broken. That could not be broken.

He has nothing left to distract him from his crushing failure to do anything, so it’s nothing short of a relief when his friends finally steps into the clearing.

It becomes less of a relief when the paladin's hand goes straight to his pommel, unsheathing his sword. 

“No,” Benji shouts as Will takes a step towards Ethan’s unconscious form, ready to defend Benji from what he perceived as a threat. He should have gone to meet Will before he got to the clearing; Ethan as a wolf is as huge as the ones up in the mountains, and appears to be no less dangerous. A sleeping wolf is no reason to feel safe - as the saying goes, the only good wolf is a dead one. 

Will blinks at him in surprise. “Benji - "

“That’s Ethan,” Benji interrupts him. “The sorcerer, he - a dying curse -  - “

“On Ethan,” Luther repeats, lowering his elderwood staff and putting the flame gathering at its tip out. Bless Luther, who has become incredibly adept in deciphering Benji’s babbling. Will, however, does not put his sword down.  

“It’s Ethan,” Benji repeats again, because maybe Will was processing this but he needs Will to process faster. “Will, it’s Ethan.”

“I get it, Benji,” the paladin says not unkindly, readjusting his grip on his sword. “It was Ethan then. We don’t know if he’s still Ethan now.”

“Of course he’s still Ethan, I saw him turn.” Benji splutters, but Will looks at him without a word, and he understands, he does. Benji may have seen the transformation, but he doesn’t know whether it touched Ethan’s mind. 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it touched Ethan’s mind.

"Luther," he says, beseeching.

"I'm afraid Will's right on this one," Luther says grimly. Luther, Ethan's friend when no one else was back when he was exiled from his land. "We'll have to see."

And perhaps this is why turning into an animal is a curse, Benji reflects hopelessly - because if Benji came into the clearing and saw a wolf, he would have turned tail and ran. When Will came into the clearing, he would have killed the wolf even if it was defenseless. With no way to communicate, and with your friends either fleeing or fighting you…

“Behind me, Benji,” Will says sharply.

He starts, only just realizing that the sound of rustling fur was coming from Ethan’s direction. Benji doesn’t want to leave nothing between Ethan and Will’s blade, but Will would be more likely to resort to more drastic measures if Benji doesn’t do as he say. Reluctantly, he steps behind the bulk of Will’s armor, shining dully in the evening light, and next to Luther, who's raised his staff again.

They all watch with bated breath, as Ethan rolls over and rouses himself, getting up slowly on all four legs. Fur rustles and ripples all over his body as he shakes, and his teeth show as he unhinges his jaw in a wide yawn. There's nothing human about the movements Ethan's making, nothing to convince Will to put down his sword. 

"Ethan?" Benji finally calls out, because he'll rather know sooner than later. The wolf turns to face them, wary, and Benji feels Will tensing in front of him, ready to either defend or attack if Ethan decides to bare his fangs at them instead. "Ethan, buddy, it's us. It's Benji. You understand us, right?"

Ethan blinks at them, once, twice. There's a stillness as they both assess each other, humans and wolf, before finally, finally Ethan moves his snout up and down in what was most certainly a nod. 

Will relaxes. He sheathes his sword in one fluid motion, after which Benji finds it safe to slap him lightly on his shoulderplate. 

"I told you," Benji says, with no real heat behind his voice, and Will rolls his eyes good-naturedly back. 

"Nasty curse you got hit with," he says to Ethan, his form of an apology. 

"Dying curse too," Luther notes, nodding towards the sorcerer. "Always finding yourself in the worst of troubles."

Ethan jerks his head to the side in a motion Benji thinks might be a shrug - as best as a shrug might be when you lack the movement to shrug your shoulders with. There is an attempt at vocalisation of some kind, a series of huffs and aborted growls, and a sad howl that sounds more hilarious than terrifying. 

"Looks like speaking's out of the question for you," Luther says, half amused. Will stifles a chuckle; Benji doesn't bother. 

"We'll break the curse though," he reassures Ethan, who looks grumpy more than affronted with his drooped ears and upturned snout. "Luther, you know what to do right?"

"About that."

“You’re kidding."

"Eh." Luther drags a hand across his face, rubbing at his eyes. "What do you know of dying curses, you two."

"You need to appease the sorcerer's dying wish," Will says immediately. Benji supposes  that it made sense, somewhat - but the sorcerer's as dead as a doornail and Luther probably doesn't dabble in necromancy. Nothing against necromancers, of course - lovely lot, awfully helpful to their community. The dead acts less like a united army and more like people who just want to be with their loved ones again, after all. 

"My mentor would be proud of that answer," Luther says. Will nods at Luther, serious and satisfied - but then Luther turns and says, "Benji?"

"Uh - " Dying curse, dying curse, why is he asking Benji - "A true love's kiss?" 

"Bingo."

“What, you're serious?" Benji says incredulously. "How does that even work?"

“Dying curses is magic made vengeful. You either have to avenge it, or you have to prove you don’t deserve this vengeance.” Luther shrugs. “Best way to do that is to prove that you’re capable of being loved and loving others in return.”

“Isn’t that kind of too easy?”

“Is it really?” Luther fixes Benji with a stare. “If you got hit by a dying curse right now, and you need a true love’s kiss - who would you go to, Benji?”

Ethan, the thought immediately comes, unbidden, to the front of his mind. Benji flushes and looks away, because love is a term he doesn’t want to use when it comes to Ethan, not when Ethan doesn’t feel the same way about him. Not when Ethan has someone else.

Someone else, Benji realizes with a pang in his heart. 

“Julia,” he blurts out. Will squints at him in surprise. “No, not for me - for Ethan.”

“Julia,” Luther muses. “Last I heard of her, she was up in the North. Some town called Mehad. That’s easily a month away.”

“Two,” Will interrupts. He nods at Ethan, who tilts his head in the universal expression of confusion. “He can’t take the portals looking like that. No boat’s going to take him either.”

“We can say he’s a really huge dog,” Benji suggests. Ethan snorts at him, and Benji shrugs back at him. “Or a really well-trained wolf."

“Up until some noble decides he looks better as a hunting trophy,” Will mutters darkly.

“Two months,” Luther affirms.

“Wait, what about Jane?” Benji asks. 

They were supposed to make their way down to Canaan to rendezvous with her, before Ethan was turned into a wolf. Apparently there's an alchemy conference scheduled in a month’s time, and whenever there's an alchemy conference there are bound to be people inordinately interested in explosive materials of the non-academical kind. While the conference warrants its own mercenaries and guards as security, Jane must have found something to necessitate her request to bring Ethan and the rest of them in to help. 

“We’ll have to tell her we can’t make it to the rendezvous,” Will says. “She’ll understand.”

“It’s Jane,” Benji shakes his head. “You know she doesn’t ask for help unless she really needs it.”

“What do you suggest we do then, bring Ethan there?” Will gestures at the wolf in question. "He’s going to stick out like a sore thumb, and he’s even less use to her as a wolf.”

Ethan stares balefully at Will, eyes wide and expressively sad. It looks remarkably like the expression Benji’s seen on his dog when he’s denied scraps from the table, and is also incredibly adorable - but he’s not going to tell Ethan either of that.

"No offense,” Will says belatedly, apparently not impervious to Ethan’s new-found power of puppy eyes.

“Gentlemen,” Luther says as the sole voice of reason within their group. “We’re four people, and we’re not bound to hold each other’s hands at all times. The obvious solution is to split up.”

“Split up,” Will repeats incredulously. 

“Two hands to help Jane is better than none,” Luther points out. “And someone needs to be translator for Ethan, because as lovely as Julia is I don’t think she’ll take well to seeing a wolf show up on her doorstep.”

Benji’s torn - on one hand, he really wants to go with Ethan because it’s his fault Ethan’s turned into a wolf and for other reasons he’s trying not to look hard at. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to see Julia. Call him selfish, call him jealous - this is the fairytale ending for Ethan - a kiss from Julia, his true love, and Ethan would turn back into a man, proven worthy of love.

It’s the only ending, and Benji, as flawed as he is, hates that it is so.

“Right,” Will agrees. “Benji and I can go and meet Jane - “

“Actually,” Luther interrupts, “I’m thinking you and me go meet Ms. Carter, and Benji can bring Ethan up to Mehad.”

“Wait, why,” Benji splutters, because he swears that Luther knows of his feelings towards Ethan even if he’s never told him. Benji knows he’s terribly obvious at times, but as long as Ethan doesn’t notice it’s all fine and dandy. “Why not you? You know where Mehad is.”

“Because it doesn’t take magic for you to read a map,” Luther says patiently. “And it takes magic to recognize magic in a place full of alchemists.” His tone softens. “You’re bright at magic, Benji, but you’re still learning.”

I’ll be able to help Jane more, is what he’s saying, and Benji can’t really begrudge him that. Luther’s his kind-of mentor in the whole _can-I-put-runes-on-this_ and _yes-no-it’ll-be-better-if-you_  routine, and he’s right. Benji might have an aptitude for magic more than he ever thought he might have, but he’s no master.

As for Will, well. It may take magic to recognize magic, but it takes a paladin to recognize killing intent before the would-be assassins can get to their targets. Besides, with the history behind Will and Ethan and Julia, Will probably doesn’t want to meet Julia just yet. The blemish of an otherwise spotless record of successfully defending his wards probably isn't something you like to look at.

There’s something wet on his hand, and Benji realizes that Ethan’s pushing his snout into Benji’s hand, nudging him. He looks down at Ethan, who stares back at him questioningly.

He knows if he says no firmly enough, no one would push him to explain why, Ethan least of all. But he also knows that it’ll make Ethan wonder why Benji won’t go with him, and Ethan might think he had ever done something to upset Benji and beat himself up over it. 

“Of course I’ll go with you,” he says to Ethan. “Better than sitting with dusty old academics any day.” 

“It’s settled then.” Luther pokes at the dead sorcerer with his staff. The body rises and floats after Luther, bumping slightly into the trees. “I’ll bring him in and collect our bounty. You two'd best get a move on. We’ll meet you in two months, wherever Jane brings us.” 

“Try to stick to the main routes if you can, but hiding Ethan comes first.” Will advises. “We’ll send a message ahead to Ruthen if anything comes up, so give us a check in when you reach there. Maybe Luther can get Julia to come down and save you both some time.”

“Ruthen, got it,” Benji nods. “Anything else?”

“Don’t forget to bundle up,” Will smiles wryly. “Safe travels.”

“Safe travels.” Benji watches Will trudge after Luther and out of sight, before looking at Ethan. “Well, buddy, looks like it’s just you and me now." 

Ethan huffs at him.

“I have no idea what you said, buddy.” Benji says. He has the feeling he’ll learn by the end of the week. “After you."

* * *

 They settle quickly on a mode of communication. Apparently moving his snout up and down is too taxing for a wolf - so a bark is taken as yes. Growls would be taken as no, or as a general warning. The sound of a wolf’s growl so close to him unnerves Benji more than not, and he considers it sufficient incentive to not do whatever he was doing for Ethan to say no. 

Howling is for emergencies. Everything else is up to Benji’s interpretation. He supposes that if Ethan's truly desperate, he could scratch out whatever he needs on the ground with his claws. 

The discussion takes them right up to the road leading into the next town, grassy meadows rustling in the night wind surrounding them on both sides. Benji stops when he sees the gates from a distance, made visible by the torches lit above. It would be nice to sleep in an inn, or to ask for shelter at one of the farmhouses in the distance, but he can’t bring Ethan into town and into the room with him.

Maybe with some sheep and a shepherd’s crook he could pass himself off as a shepherd with a terrifying sheepdog (more effective at herding sheep, he hears himself say) - but that means Ethan would have to sleep with the sheep and it’ll be more likely to slow them down than afford them the convenience of entering towns. Besides, the portals didn’t allow livestock - at least, not the public ones. 

“We’re camping here,” Benji finally decides, only to be met by a low growl. 

He frowns at Ethan, who gently but determinedly catches Benji’s sleeve in his mouth and tugs at it. Humoring the wolf, he follows the direction Ethan’s tugging him towards - the town.

“You can’t go in, pal,” Benji says. “I don’t think anyone would buy it if I tell them you’re a really huge dog." 

Ethan growls again, shaking his head. He stares at Benji with what Benji can only describe as a determined look on his face, before staring off at the town - and repeats the action, again and again.

“Wait,” Benji says, because this is the very reason they set up their communication system. “You want me to go into the town?”

A bark.

“And you’ll come in with me?” A growl this time, so Benji changes tack. “You’re not coming in with me. You’ll sneak in after.” Another growl, another no. “You’re not coming in at all.”

Another bark, bingo. Benji rubs at the crease between his eyebrows.

"So you want me to stay in the town and you’ll stay out here?”

Ethan sits back onto his haunches and barks once.

“No,” Benji says. “I’m not sleeping in the inn and letting you stay outside here alone. Are you nuts? What happens if you need help?”

Ethan stares at him plainly, his tail moving slowly behind him.

“Right, you’re a wolf - even if you’re a wolf you might need help,” Benji tells him firmly. “Ethan, if you were in my position you wouldn’t let me sleep here alone either. I can take a month of sleeping on the ground." 

Ethan growls again, but Benji thinks it sounds slightly half-hearted this time. 

“I’m your friend, Ethan,” he sighs. “We’ve got to watch each other’s back, and I can’t do that from in there. We can sleep in all the inns when you turn back, alright?” 

There’s an aborted huff - and he thinks that’s probably a laugh at their situation, where sleeping in a bed is a luxury instead of something that they usually do when in close proximity to an inn. They’re no stranger to hardship, with their travels across the land, but they don’t turn up their nose at comfort when there’s money to be spent. 

“That’s that, then,” Benji says. There’s the remains of a campfire made by some travelers before them, so all they really need is some dry grass - of which there’s an abundant amount of. He shrugs his rucksack off his back and onto the ground, grabs the flint and his steel knife and sets to work trying to start a fire.

It looks so easy when Ethan does it, Benji thinks wistfully as he tries to shave the flint into the pile of rocks. His hands feel unsteady and the knife unwieldy, but he tries. Ethan watches him intently from the side, his ears pricked and tail swaying gently from side to side.

“You watch, I’ll be an expert by the end of this month,” Benji tells him, injecting false confidence into his words. Instead of a series of huffs like he expects, Ethan barks gently.

Somehow, it feels like Ethan telling him that you will. The thought warms him, and he turns his attention back to the flint. He wants to get this right.

Benji eventually gets a few sparks and finally a fire going. It’s small, and he has to constantly feed it with blades of dry grass, but he’s pretty proud of it. Ethan sniffs at the fire, looks up at Benji and barks twice - before sitting down next to it with a loud thump.

That’s probably approval, Benji thinks as he settles down next to the fire itself. He doesn’t think Ethan would outright tell him he’s doing a shite job at any rate. 

“You’re taking being a wolf pretty well,” he comments idly as he sets his bag down and himself next to it. His rucksack would probably serve adequately as a rather hard and bumpy pillow, and his blanket of roughly woven linen would shield him against the wind. If he really wants to, he could gather some grass and leaves and make a makeshift bed - but with the moon inching slowly and steadily upwards into the sky, he doesn’t want to make the effort. “Thought you’d be more upset.” 

Who was he kidding - Ethan, lose his cool? The sun would rather be swallowed whole by a lupine god before that would happen.

Ethan does that head-jerk again, which Benji is quite sure is a shrug. 

“Don’t tell me,” Benji says. “You’ve been turned into a wolf before.”

The huffing may not tell much else from the laugh that Ethan’s having, but his eyes rolling is a universal indicator of the truth.

“Hm, then you were raised by a wolf,” Benji guesses, even if he knows fully well which house and which land Ethan hails from - an illustrious lineage with generations before him serving as Masters of the Hunt to their king. He’s fairly sure Ethan has a claim to the throne in some indirect way, if he ever fancies ruling. He doubts Ethan ever will. 

Ethan huffs even more as if he’s saying, do I look like Romulus to you?

“Oh - I’ve got it,” Benji says. “You were actually a wolf who got cursed into a man - and now you got cursed back into a wolf. What serendipity. What a miracle. You’ve journeyed so far for a way back to the wild, only to have it delivered by some snot-nosed sorcerer.  Amazing.”

The huffs become interspersed with bouts of hacking and coughing, but Ethan doesn’t seem to be in too much pain. Benji politely waits for the coughs to subside and Ethan to stare balefully at him.

“So which one is it,” Benji grins at him, because Ethan is Ethan whether he is a man or a wolf, and Benji’s not going to get his face chewed off if he teases him. “You didn’t say yes or no.”

A snort, this time. Ethan gets up, turns around and curls up next to the fire, putting his head down and closing his eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Benji says, settling down and drawing his own blanket over him. “Good night, Ethan.”

Ethan cracks open one eye, flicks his ears, and closes them again. There’s a noise that sounds less like a growl and more like a rumble, which Benji takes to mean _good night, Benji_. He watches the rhythm of Ethan's breathing slow into a steady rise and fall of a slumbering wolf, the light of the crackling fire casting an orange hue over the mass of fur, before rolling over to stare up at the night sky.

They’ll be fine. Two months would go by quickly if they don’t run into any situation where someone requires help from a man and a wolf. They’ll meet up with Julia, Benji will explain what happened, and then step outside to let Julia kiss Ethan. Then Ethan would be a man again, and they’d head back down south to meet up with Luther and the rest, and things would go on as normal - Ethan brilliant and beautiful and Benji pining after him in the shadows.

He could try kissing Ethan now while he’s asleep and unaware, his traitorous heart whispers - and maybe Ethan would turn back into a man now, and they’d save so much time. He knows he loves Ethan, and he’ll know that Ethan loves him back. Practically a fantasy come true, validated by magic and its recognition of the innate essence of the people it touches. Benji would be so incredibly happy.

But if Ethan remains a wolf... 

Benji doesn’t think his heart could take that. The risk is too great for him to bear.

So he continues looking up at the constellations, the brilliance of their stars far closer to Benji than Ethan ever would be, and falls asleep to passing notions of his lips hovering only slightly above Ethan’s forehead, never to touch them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me like, two to three months to sit myself down and write it out mainly because I kept on starting and rewriting and then admitting to myself I couldn't use it and deleting. The middle part is always the hardest to write, I say.
> 
> I hope y'all are still out there, and even if you aren't I'm gonna finish this goddamn story because I must be able of commitment on some level.

The roads stretch long and lonely with travelers few and far in between, hurrying to their own destinations. Ethan learns to hear the carts coming, and hides in the grass when the horses pass by - a few near-accidents with horses starting when they catch the slightest glimpse of a wolf is more trouble than it's worth, especially with opportunistic merchants and their ever-so-fragile wares. They make good time nonetheless, making camp when night falls and moving on at sunrise. 

Benji quickly learns to phrase his sentences to be easily answered with yes or no, after one too many lulls in the conversation and his turning to find Ethan staring patiently at him. While Benji's used to talking on and on and on about something until someone stops him, he is far less used to talking with no one stopping him. It feels rather lonely, like talking into a void - right up until Ethan pushes his wet snout into Benji’s hand and looks expectantly up at him.

Ethan isn't a saint, Benji knows. There are times Benji can’t quite contain his excitement and nervousness and every other possible emotion, his concerns and interests and ramblings bubbling and overflowing like the foam of an inexpertly poured lager over the mug; and times Ethan loses his patience, going off on his own to cool off. Now Benji knows better, time mellowing the novelty of magic and bounty hunting and anything a foreign land could throw at him - but he does slip up sometimes. Luther would tell him, calmly, to pipe down for a few seconds; Will would snap at him instead, during particularly tense situations.

Then again, Will snaps at everyone during tense situations, so he doesn’t hold it against the paladin. It’s the stress and pressure of the job, so he gets it. He really does.

But he supposes that talking at Ethan is one of the few ways Ethan reminds himself that he’s more than a wolf. They both quickly realize that the reason Ethan acclimated so well to his new form is not because of prior experience or Ethan’s own adaptability, but the instincts Ethan received post-transformation; instincts that tell him to chase after a rabbit into the meadow the moment a twig snaps within his hearing distance. Ethan slinks back to the campfire after that enthusiastic chase, ears set back in what Benji reads as embarrassment.

“We all chase after rabbits at one point,” Benji wisely says - and he’s not even lying, as he regales Ethan later with a tale of how he wanted to grow up to be a fox when he was younger, and the training regime that includes catching a rabbit. In the face of failure, a younger Benji decided that being a human and having parents to feed him when he's hungry is a pretty good deal.

Ethan laughs, in that huffing way of a wolf. Benji takes it as permission to tease him about every rabbit they see on their way. 

At any rate, he decides he wants to talk to Ethan even if he’s a wolf, so his anecdotes become less linear and more haphazardly structured. Perhaps the cart that passes them carries flowers, the scent wafting thick into the air and causing Ethan to sneeze, and Benji will ask him whether he’s eaten flowers before. If Ethan barks, he continues trying to guess out the circumstances of that particular situation - a foreign dish ( _no_ ), a local custom ( _no_ ), a prank ( _no_ ) or for the heck of it ( _yes_ ) - before launching into his own story of his brother persuading him that raw rose petals were a delicacy, and something that smells so good can only taste better.

His brother had a good laugh at that, he admits to Ethan. Rose petals may smell sweet, but are atrociously bitter when you chew on them, and - _don’t you laugh at me, Ethan, you ate them too_.

As a wolf Ethan also seems to require more sustenance to get him throughout the day, as evidenced by the extraordinarily loud growl of his stomach despite the four sausages warmed over the embers of their dying campfire that they shared in the morning. Benji's hesitant to cook more, with the rest of the sausages comprising their rations for the next few days - but he also finds himself at the mercy of Ethan’s puppy eyes, accompanied by a pitiful whine.

“We’ll share then,” he says grudgingly, and doesn’t miss how Ethan’s tail wags at the concession.

It also means that they might run low on supplies in the near future, and Benji’s not entirely sure if his pouch has enough gold to purchase more rations to get them to Ruthen. The escort and the bounties on various criminals and persons of interest comprised most of their income, and Benji’s own was supplemented by trading away his whittled fancies at the local market as toys for easily entertained children. The trade is more often than not up to the passing whim of the trader than to the value of Benji’s creations, and the top he’s been whittling away at has yet to take shape beyond a generic top found in every general store - so it’s a concern, alright, when he doesn’t know what he can use to trade for the rations they’ll need. 

It's a pressing concern, at least up until one morning when he wakes up to find Ethan gone for one heart-stopping second - only to see him coming through the low shrubs and trees with two rabbits hanging limply in his mouth. 

Pelts. They can trade pelts.

“You’re a bloody genius,” Benji says. Of course Ethan would still be able to hunt, perhaps even better, as a wolf. It’s just a matter of dressing the rabbits before they can sell them in the next town over - wait, can Ethan even dress them without opposable thumbs?

The answer comes immediately as Ethan dumps a rabbit, blood and all, into his lap.

“Oh,” Benji says as Ethan looks expectantly at him. “You sure, buddy? I don’t even have the tools.”

He’s no stranger to the process - back in his village they had left traps out for muskrats and beavers near the river. His sister is a deft hand at skinning them, and he has heard her yell enough times about the importance of not piercing the guts and stomachs lest they spoil the meat - but other than that he has no clue, having taken interest in other things such as carving and tinkering and fiddling with _things that didn’t need fiddling with_ , in his ma’s own words.

The process goes vaguely like, remove the fur and the glands, remove the intestines and other organs you can’t eat, and remove the heart and lungs and the organs you _can_ eat, then butcher it, literally - but the finer details? They elude him.

He’ll probably find out very, very soon.

Ethan wanders to Benji's bag, noses at it and comes back with Ethan's own hunting knife in his mouth. He puts it down in front of Benji, fixing him with a stern look. Benji stares at the knife - he’s never seen anyone touch that particular knife before the transformation, not even Luther, and for Ethan to offer it to Benji...

“Okay, okay,” Benji concedes, tucking the thought away for later. “You have to show me how, though.”

Ethan barks, before biting one of his rabbit’s paw clean off and spitting it out next to him. Benji stares.

“If it’s all the same to you,” he finally says, grabbing the hunting knife and sliding it out of its sheath, “I’ll just cut it off.”

It’s slow going, but they make do. Where Ethan tears at the fur with his blunt claws, Benji carefully follows suit - and where Ethan grasps at the fur with his teeth and drags it down and off the carcass, Benji feels very thankful he doesn’t need _his_ teeth to do so. He slices with the knife where Ethan traces a line with his claw, and at the end of it all they have two rabbits roasting over a campfire for breakfast.

His sister might be even proud of him, Benji tells Ethan, and Ethan barks in reply.

It’s either luck or Ethan’s foresight they decided to camp next to a stream last night. Benji washes the blood right off his hands and the knife. Ethan, on the other hand, seems to be facing less success.

“I think you might actually need to go in,” Benji observes as Ethan tries to splash the blood smeared across his snout with his paws. “You're pretty grimy too.”

Ethan sniffs disdainfully at him, and he waves one of the rabbits back.

“You know I’m right,” Benji chides. “Go in, and you’ll have a rabbit ready when you’re nice and clean. Go, shoo.”

Ethan huffs at him before wading into the stream, and Benji idly wonders if he should offer to go in and help the wolf scrub at his fur. If Ethan was human, Benji would find it very hard not to flush and stare at him under the clear morning light in the glittering stream - but Ethan’s currently the equivalent of a humongous dog, so offering to bathe him is less sexy and probably more mortifying.

He returns his attention back to the rabbits when Ethan finds a particularly jagged rock to rub himself against as a makeshift scrub. That’s that, he supposes.

He’s turning the rabbits onto their sides when suddenly there’s a bark right next to his ear. A cleaner but absolutely drenched Ethan stands next to him, water dripping off his fur in relentless rivulets - and Benji sees the glint of mischief in Ethan’s eyes.

He’s seen that glint before in his brother’s eyes, and he _knows_.

“Don’t you dare,” he says - but Ethan in his wet glory has started shaking off, the water flying straight into Benji’s face and soaking into his clothes. 

“Ethan,” he yells, shielding his face. “Ethan, stop that, I swear - “

But he’s also laughing and Ethan’s also huffing, and Benji can admit he’s probably overdue for a bath himself - so he tosses his shirt off and wades into the stream -  _golly, that’s cold_.

“Keep an eye on the rabbits, and I won’t splash you back,” he says to Ethan, who is very suddenly interested in the rabbits, eying them with an intensity usually reserved for confronting his opponents. _He’s probably hungry_ , Benji decides, and turns around to wash a week’s worth of dirt and grime and sweat off his skin. 

The rabbits turn out slightly singed, and they end up setting off late that day - but Benji's in no hurry and to his pleasant surprise, Ethan doesn't seem to be in a hurry either.

Maybe, just maybe, they can take their time. 

* * *

Benji trades the pelts in at the next town they come across for more rations - hard bread and hard cheese and rolls of sausages, coiled tightly and edible only after ample warming over a fire. The amount of food he managed to trade for is frankly more than enough to reach Ruthen and beyond for a party of two; but with Ethan having to consume at the rate of a party of his own, Benji’s fairly sure with vigorous rationing the supplies would run out just before they reach Ruthen. They’d have to hunt to make up the difference, and frankly he’s hoping that fresh meat would make the rations more palatable to the tongue.

He also exchanges his cloak for a thickly woven overcoat in anticipation of the snow and wind they’re bound to encounter the closer they get to Ruthen, and for all his charm the shopkeeper generously throws in a hat that Benji can pull down past his ears. Maybe he could lay on the charm a tad more and barter for an extra coat for when Ethan turns back into a human, but Julia would probably have coats and scarves and hats for Ethan at her house, all Ethan-sized, and Benji would have expended the extra effort in bartering for what will only ever amount to extra weight in his rucksack.

Sighing, he puts the cloak back onto the rack, and heads back out into the town. He spares a longing eye for the inn while he can, because while he did insist on camping outside with Ethan, he still misses the give of a hay-stuffed mattress under his weight, the tavern fare, the horses and the sound of a voice other than his own. 

But only in this town does he let himself feel - because while he can walk up to the inn and book a room there and then, Ethan simply cannot. In this town that Ethan can only lurk and observe from the surrounding woods, Benji lets himself miss the conveniences they previously had, out of Ethan’s sight and mind.

Besides, everything pales in comparison to the ache of their journey’s destination - because for all of their easy companionship, Benji still stares up at the stars every night in lieu of Ethan’s slumbering form. The closer they get to Julia, the sharper Benji’s regrets - every errant thought about Benji being able to break the curse is accompanied by the thought of _not_ being able to do so, of the unbearable consequences: the subdued silence in the wake of unrequited love. He’s seen how Ethan treats those who love him in a capacity far beyond Ethan’s reciprocation, kindly but firmly with no allusions to the possibility of Ethan leading them on - and Benji values the progress he’s made as Ethan’s friend too much to risk the repercussions of asking for more.

This is enough, the ribbing and the banter and the patient look in Ethan’s eyes as Benji forgets himself in a tirade about the topic of the day. It’ll have to be enough.

So Benji lets himself feel, in this quiet town as he goes about his business at a brisk pace. He lets himself luxuriate in his troubles, in the joy of Ethan’s company and the dream of an unreachable future. As he fills up the water flasks at the well, he lets himself dream about the crinkle of Ethan’s eyes when he smiles at Benji after breaking his curse; as he steps back onto the road heading out of town, he lets himself remember that very smile directed at Julia for her unflinching love.

Maybe it’s masochism, but maybe it’s also guilt: Ethan deserves love, he knows, for all the ways he loves himself so little and spreads himself thin by giving the many he has chosen to protect so much, and the only way Benji should love him is by supporting whatever is left and letting Julia to build him back up again. It’s the only selfishness Benji allows himself, to do things for Ethan and to expect nothing in return even if his want tears desperately through him. 

He can’t have more, and should not want more - but he’s only human, fragilely so in the face of Ethan’s presence. 

And when his feet takes him past the town gates and into the woods, when he whistles three sharp staccato notes and Ethan melts out of the shadow and into sight, then and only then he gathers all the shivering pieces of himself that yearns for something less than obsession and more than friendship and puts them away, out of Ethan’s sight.

He’s had his respite.

“Let’s go,” Benji says to Ethan, and Benji is absently relieved that his smile is more genuine than he thought it would be.

* * *

The air of the mountain pass is crisp and clean on the first intake, and sharp and severe after the hundredth. Benji wraps his scarf around his reddening nose, the vibrant yellow of the yarn faded over the years, and trudges after Ethan down the path marked not by gravel but by the tread of a decade’s worth of travelers who had laid down their boots before them. It awes him, sometimes, the way people would venture into lands hostile to their very being - not by intent but by nature - and the way people would triumph by carving a path through mountains and deserts and obstacles through sheer persistence and relentless greed.

Yet nature gives as good as it gets, he reflects as the sun tips further downwards in the west and as the wind picks up in its attempts to blast his skin clean off his bones. Migrants and wanderers may have made their way to Ruthen, but they would have to contend with the oppressing chill and the shadows cast by the mountaintops, shrouding the sharp turns of the path in the hopes of an unwary traveller taking a misstep and a plunge down a cliff. It’s for this reason that they set up camp in the first cave they come across rather than risk venturing further and finding none - more fool those who sleep out in the open and risk hungry animals or freezing to death. 

The cave is less a cave and more a crevice, with the marks of a campfire built many times over scuffed onto the frozen ground. Benji takes advantage of the fading light to scour the surrounding area for dry grass and fallen twigs, and gets a fire going as soon as he can - his hands would thank him later, even when all he wants to do is to stuff them into his pockets and curl around the dying warmth of the heat stones. 

Ethan, the lucky bastard, seems to be handling the freezing temperatures just fine. Must be the fur, Benji thinks wistfully as his own coat hangs heavy and insufficiently insulating around his frame.

It’s a mix of routine and sheer willpower that carries Benji through the rest of his tasks. He sets his water flask down as close to the flames as he dares, and the heat stones next to it. The runes simmers orange as the warmth seeps into the engraved patterns, the only indication that the enchantment is holding; while heat stones by themselves don’t require magic, he’s particularly proud of how his stones will hold heat longer and more evenly than an average stone sold by the fur traders would. He might sell them one day, if he’s ever inclined to make more.

Dinner is a quiet affair, with conversation halted by the cold sapping the strength entirely out of Benji. He hands Ethan his fair share of barely warmed sausages and a block of cheese, watching tiredly as Ethan gnaws at it, and focuses on eating his own. Temptation calls him to just curl up in a corner and shiver his way to next morning, but he knows he needs the strength to make it over the mountain tomorrow. Waking up on an empty stomach would only hinder them both - and while Benji would never turn down a few more days with Ethan, just walking by his side, he would prefer to do so somewhere warmer. They both would.

(A few more days over the mountain pass and to Ruthen, and a few more to Mehad where Julia waits. Benji had thought that he would grow used to the idea - no, the fact - over the past month, but the thought claws at his heart and drags it heavy anew, every time.)

The thought returns, over and over, as he lies down and stares at the wall instead of the stars. It proves to be the barest of distraction against the chill seeping into his bones, even as he curls into himself more tightly, his coat and his blanket drawn tight around his form. The sharp pinpricks of warmth as he breathes out onto his hands are disappointing more than comforting, and the only evidence of the fire is its crackle, under the rustle of cloth as a shiver runs through him mercilessly.

Gods, will he make it to morning? He would, he would - but he’d only be utterly miserable about it.

There’s the sound of a huff, of Ethan getting up and moving closer to the fire. Guess the fur wasn’t enough even for a wolf, Benji thinks through the chatter of his teeth - 

And suddenly there’s warmth, heat and fur pressed along the line of Benji’s back. 

“Ethan,” Benji croaks out in surprise, his thoughts screeching to a halt. Ethan huffs in a reply of sorts, and he realizes that Ethan is trying to maneuver around Benji’s form, his coarse fur dragging against Benji’s cheek as he attempts to settle into a sleeping position of some sort. "Ethan -“

Ethan growls gently, and any protest Benji might be inclined to make falls away in the face of the furnace that is the mass of fur, a stark contrast to the cold loneliness he was previously subject to.

“Ethan,” he says weakly, but maybe the defeat is evident in Benji’s voice because Ethan doesn’t growl at him again.

They end up with Ethan curled around Benji and Benji’s head resting on Ethan’s flank, Ethan having shoved Benji insistently to settle them in. Up close, Ethan’s fur is coarse but soft to recline against, and the muscles shifting under Benji’s weight firm in its support.

It’s no bed in a tavern. He’s still cold, his feet stretched out and away from Ethan’s snout as a courtesy - but he’s also so warm, sinking into the warmth at his back; too warm to let the tendrils of guilt tug at him for taking advantage of Ethan’s kindness to a friend. 

Let a man dream. Just for today.

His exhaustion is dragging him towards the inky depths of slumber, sinking him slowly away from consciousness, but Benji has the presence of mind to at least murmur a ‘thank you’ to the wolf.

His eyes slide shut to a soft rumble next to his ear, and Benji sleeps.

* * *

The mountain pass is cold, but the way to Ruthen is no less colder. They may have left the harsh mountain wind behind, but snow and frost takes its place, glittering white where it hangs and drapes all over the trees and shrubs along the road. Benji has a few laughs at Ethan’s expense as he adjusts to traversing the icy roads with four limbs, with one particularly memorable occasion where his paws just slides out under him and sends him sliding down the fortunately barren road.

(Benji insists that he slid after Ethan in a form of camaraderie, since Ethan looked like he was having so much fun - but from the snort and the side-eye Ethan is leveling at him, Ethan isn’t buying it.)

It also becomes a routine: Benji would set up the campfire, a practiced hand after two months of starting fires, and Ethan would curl himself around Benji and drown him in a much-appreciated well of warmth. While he was too tired to hold a conversation back up on the mountain pass, the level grade of the roads so far is less taxing on Benji’s stamina, allowing him to talk at Ethan until his head falls backwards, looking up at the stars. Ethan seems to appreciate the conversation, punctuating Benji's sentences with a huff or a rumble, a lazy air of contentment hanging in the space between them.

It’s comfortable, and Ethan must find it comfortable too. Guilt rears its head and Benji assuages it by telling himself that he’s only curling up with Ethan while his friend is a wolf, and that he’d be a fool to turn down warmth when he’s freezing his arse off.

It comes as a surprise then when he hears barking in the distance, and a scruffy mutt of a dog trotting up to their campfire snarling its head off at Benji and Ethan.

“Oi, Noodle,” a voice yells, and the owner of the voice runs into view, a grubby little girl with her hair shorn short and messy. “Noodle, ya little bugger, what did I tell ya - whoa.”

Benji freezes. They had made their camp down a detour of a path, hoping to avoid other travelers, so what is this kid doing outside in the middle of the night? If she’s going to run and scream that there’s a wolf, then they have to move immediately, and -

“That’s a mighty big dog ya have there,” the girl says.

Benji stares at her blankly. She squints at him, or more accurately at Ethan, who’s so tense that Benji can feel it behind his back.

“Mal'mute, aye? Little wonder Noodle’s barkin'. She’s a territorial one, she is - shut up, I said,” the girl says severely to Noodle, who listens for the grand total of one second before barking her head off again. “Ack. You’d think she’d save her lungs for a thief or a wolf, but no, she gotta bark at another dog mindin’ its own business.”

Slowly, slowly, Benji relaxes.

“Eh, small dogs, you know how they are,” he says mildly.

“Kings of the world,” the girl agrees. “Never mind a wolf could just snap them right up in one bite.” She grins bashfully as she reaches over and grabs Noodle by the scruff of the neck, the dog falling quiet only when its stubby feet are lifted clear off the ground.

“Ya headed to Ruthen, ain’tcha,” the girl says. “Not sure where else ya’d go, actually.”

“Ruthen, yes,” Benji agrees. “Hey, does the town allow big dogs in? Do you know?”

He feels Ethan’s ear prick more than he sees them, and he knows Ethan knows what he’s thinking.

“Ya, they do,” the girl says cheerfully, settling Noodle on her shoulder. “Yer Mal’mute can get in there, no problem. There’s dog-snatchers abounds, so yer better keep a good eye on him, aye?”

“I will,” Benji says sincerely - and is slightly surprised with the rumble, low and pleased, behind him. “Though I’d say those snatchers will have a fight on their hands.”

“Would be hard to snatch yer dog,” the girl concedes. “I’m off. Good night, mister.”

“Night,” Benji calls out as she turns around and heads off towards the farmhouse in the distance. A local, then. He looks down at Ethan, who stares up at him plaintively.

“So,” he grins. “Guess you’re a really huge dog around these parts.”

The sound that comes out of Ethan’s mouth is alarmingly close to a whine. Benji snorts, loud.

“Let’s see if we can get you into Ruthen tomorrow,” Benji says. “And if we’re lucky, a tavern will let you take a bed.”

Ethan huffs. Benji pats him on the flank.

“Just dream of that bed, buddy,” he says. “If we’re not sleeping in one, I’ll buy you some sausages. The good ones.”

He gets a bark in reply. Benji settles back into the warmth of Ethan’s fur, curling against his flank - tomorrow is going to be an interesting day indeed. Perhaps interesting enough to let him forget about Julia and Mehad, he thinks wistfully, and listens to the steady rise and fall of Ethan’s chest.

Perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to nogoatshere for drawing [fanart](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/nogoatshere/181491308375). all mentions of sausages are dedicated to them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay! I swear I keep on putting actual deadlines to sit down and write, but then I literally just sat down and finished writing this chapter last night. Just, suddenly typed it out.
> 
> I gave it a cursory beta reading because no beta we die like men, so forgive me for any mistakes!

Ruthen, in a single word, is magnificent. 

Hewn into the side of a mountain and spilling over into the valley below, Ruthen found its roots as a convenient and necessary stop along caravan routes, faltered when countries turned to seafaring merchants, and fluorished in full force with the discovery of adamantite deposits across the mountain range. The adamantite led to an influx of enchanters and scholars, and ultimately to the construction of the first portal in the land. With a tight grip on the export of the refined ores and a monopoly on the construction of portals, Ruthen's renown was cemented as both trade and magic hub of the region.

 

Unlike Luther, Benji has less an appreciation for its politics and more of its culture. Ruthen was also known for its architecture, ranging between the stone-cut domes of the past and the levitating stone-steps winding around ivory towers of the present, and for its devotion to the arts with galleries and theaters and orchestral halls strewn across the city. It is in Ruthen that Benji first saw and fell in love with the opera, and every time they’ve been to Ruthen since, Ethan has been considerate enough to include a day off to see the sights.

Perhaps one day he’ll be brave enough to buy two tickets, and invite Ethan to an evening at the opera. …maybe after a jug or two of liquid courage, and a solid cover story.They make it past the city walls with the barest of inspections, despite all the preparations they made. Benji had made a perfunctory show of putting down his rucksack and counting out coins for the entrance toll; Ethan had ambled away from his ‘owner’, wandering close to huddled groups of travelers and sniffing at their possessions. The reactions ranged from elated charges by children enthralled by the presence of 'a ginormous dog, mam, look' (to which Ethan graciously submitted to petting and scratching by small and sticky hands, to Benji’s fond amusement), to an irritated warning to Benji to 'mind yer mutt'. The worst of the reactions reveal that to travelers familiar with the roads leading towards Ruthen, Ethan is no more than a very large dog - because the alternative of a human taming a wild wolf would simply be quite preposterous.

Nevertheless, Benji counts their blessings as the guards seem to share similar sentiments towards Ethan, not even batting an eye at his size - and ownership papers aren't even required. They get waved through the gates with little fanfare, and Benji grins triumphantly down at Ethan, who huffs at him right back.

“Want to bet about that inn?” Benji says archly. Ethan snorts inelegantly at him - a don’t push your luck, perhaps. “We’ll see.”

They head towards the post office, a large building absolutely dwarfed by the neighbouring Portals Station. Although Ruthen so far has been accommodating to canines, Benji really doubts that as even the most well-behaved of dogs would be let into a government building. After a brief debate on where Ethan should wait, Benji finally settles on a shadowy alley nearby over the bench across the building. They tie Benji's scarf around Ethan’s neck in an attempt to imply ownership, and if they're lucky there won't be any overly concerned do-gooders sending Ethan to the pound.

“Stay out of trouble,” he says, more a request than a warning.  

Ethan flicks his ears and settles on his haunches. I make no promises, the gleam in his eyes conveys, and really, that’s the best Benji can hope for.

The lobby of the post office reflects its stately exterior - a wide expanse of a hall bordered by polished wooden counters and teetering piles of envelopes, packages and mail. Benji passes over several counters with their own signs (subliminal messages, curses, flower arrangements) and makes a beeline for a plain counter where Will and Luther in their pragmatism have surely left him a normal letter. 

“Benji Dunn,” he says clearly into the curved horn, found on every counter in the hall. The horn hums as it accepts the name, a low vibrating note that thrums once through Benji’s body, the magic sweeping across him in confirmation of the name his senders would know him by, and only stops humming when an envelope slips itself out of a nearby tower of paper, slicing through the air and settling gently onto the golden tray in front of him. 

Magicians. Benji shakes his head despite being impressed - give magicians the run of the city, and they'd find every excuse to put magic into every process. 

He picks up the envelope, noting the curlicues and flourishes of Luther’s handwriting across the crumpled front, and puts it in his coat. Benji could read it right here and right now, but he can also wait until he’s with Ethan and read it then. He’s fairly sure Ethan misses Will and Luther’s company as much as Benji does, and some words from their friends wouldn’t be unappreciated.

Also, Ethan might just be getting himself into trouble right about now. Benji really wouldn’t put it past him.

* * *

He makes his way out of the building, to the alley where he left Ethan - lo and behold, trouble finds Ethan indeed.

There’s three men in the alleyway, crowding the wolf against the wall. They don’t look particularly friendly either, with two of them outright brandishing knives, but at least none of them seem particularly motivated to put themselves within range of Ethan’s raised hackles and bared fangs. 

 

That may soon change, Benji suddenly realizes as his skin prickles with the gathering of magic in the air, swirling lazily towards the third member of the group. It’s not a destructive force, lacking the momentum of energy usually associated with bursts of fire or formed projectiles, but a sluggishness that drags slowly like a heavy brocade across skin. He can feel the compression, a layering of sorts - of seals being laid upon each other, binding and oppressive and…

They want Ethan alive. Binding and oppressive - either a spell to prevent motion, or to lull Ethan to sleep. Perhaps these lot are the dog-snatchers they were warned about.

There's no time to concoct a plan to remove both himself and Ethan from the situation with minimal conflict, especially with the spell so close to completion. In his experience traveling with Ethan, Ethan usually attempts to talk his way out whenever caught in a situation about to escalate - but Ethan is incapable of talking, and Benji is no silver tongue and certainly not some master assassin. 

At the very least, he has to disrupt the caster’s concentration before Ethan is taken out of the picture - and even if they remained outnumbered at two against three, the odds will certainly be better than Ethan facing them alone. With that in mind, Benji barrels straight into the group, knocking the caster over and planting himself right in front of Ethan. He feels the magic shudder in place with nowhere to go to, before dissipating into nothing - at least that’s done - and turns to regard the two thugs who clearly did not expect anyone to intervene so quickly.

“What’s the big idea, huh?” Benji snarls, letting adrenaline rush through him. The plan here is to make Ethan a target that would require more effort to acquire than he’s worth - and while Ethan Hunt is certainly worth every effort, he doubts these people know that the wolf in front of them is Ethan. “What are you lot doing with my dog?”

“That’s yer dog?” One of the thugs scoffs, the scar across his eye twisting with his face. “Yer shittin’ us."

Ethan growls, low and entirely hair-raising, and steps up next to Benji’s side. Benji doesn’t even look; he reaches down with one hand, dragging it over the curve of Ethan’s lupine head and gripping the fur at the back of Ethan’s neck along with the bandana he had tied on.

“Damned right he’s mine,” Benji sneers right back. “Now sod off before I set him on you lot.”

They stand at an impasse, all four of them and the caster slowly picking himself off the ground. Benji’s casting repertoire is admittedly limited, with the basic fireball being the most consistent of his magical abilities  - but a fireball would work as well as anything in disrupting the caster’s concentration. Casters in the employ of the local criminal underground aren’t the most polished of gems, after all - the threat of having magic at their disposal is more than enough of a scare to the common folk - and Benji's banking on that being true for the thugs when he flexes his fingers, drawing the warmth from the air around them into the palm of his hands, ready to burst into flames at a snap of his finger.

The thug - the unscarred one who had kept quiet - is the first to lower his knife. 

“Fine, he’s yours,” he says, shrugging through the tense lines of his shoulder. “Fancy selling him? He ought to be worth a good thousand gold.”

“He’s not for sale.” Benji snaps.

“Thought I’d ask,” the man says off-handedly, but his eyes linger on Ethan.

“And you have my answer.” Benji clenches his hand, as if holding onto Ethan would protect the wolf better. The thug may have put down his knife, but a body is as good as a weapon. Benji's not letting his guard down until they’re gone. “Are we done here?”

The man considers them for a beat more, before shifting his gaze to Benji. 

"We're done," he says, and his smile is knife-sharp and cold. "But if you ever change your mind, ask for Vinter."

The trio leaves, the caster and the other thug giving Benji and Ethan one last look before they turn to follow Vinter. Benji watches them leave the alley, through the other end - and jerks in surprise as Ethan pushes his snout into Benji's side and nudges him out into the main road, bright and bustling with no indication of the darker side of Ruthen. 

His heart is still pounding, the heavy thud of his pulse slamming against his throat. That could have gone worse in a myriad of ways, had they been more quick to believe an application of blade to skin would cow Benji - but, as Benji forcefully reminds himself over the cacophony of the terrible ways he could have fucked up his rescue attempt, they're safe. Ethan is next to him: not being bound away into some darker alley, where he would be muzzled until he’s forced to fight for his life against other aggressive canines.

Ethan would survive of course, of this Benji had little doubt - but it would not be pleasant, and the stakes would only rise higher and higher against a champion. It only takes one misstep to fall from a mountain.

“You alright?” He finally asks Ethan - and notices that he’s still gripping Ethan by the scruff of his neck, knuckles white from the tension. Benji lets go immediately, chagrined. “Sorry I couldn’t get there faster - “

The look in Ethan’s eyes is incredibly clear, even if he’s a wolf: _don’t be ridiculous_. He barks once, gently, and leans into Benji’s hand. After a few moments’ pause, Benji gingerly runs his fingers through the mass of fur, over and over; Ethan only rumbles, clearly satisfied.

“Hah,” Benji says, weakly - but he’s breathing more easily now, with the feeling of rough fur on skin. There’s something calming about the repetitive motion, the coarse texture clear with every drag of Benji’s hand. Something soothing. Ethan seems to find it soothing too, his eyes drooping shut, and Benji thinks, it would be nice to stay like this, just for a while.

Then he remembers the letter in his pocket, and that Ethan is a man, not a wolf.

“So guess who sent us a letter,” Benji says, withdrawing his hand to fish the letter out of his coat. Ethan blinks sleepily at him, as if he’s confused why Benji stopped petting him. Benji tries not to think too hard about it. “I haven’t read it yet - I thought we could read it together.”

Ethan huffs, and Benji takes it as encouragement to hook a finger underneath the flap and tug the envelope open. He lowers himself to sit against the wall, the dust of the brick wall probably smearing itself onto his rucksack - but it allows Ethan to settle down next to him and shove his snout in the vicinity of Benji’s face, all the better to read the letter with. The letter - a single piece of parchment - slides out easily, and Benji unfolds it gently to read.

_Benji_ , it says.

_If you’ve received this, then it means you’ve reached Ruthen without any incident. I slapped an enchantment on the envelope to alert me when it’s opened - it’s a bit new, but after testing it should work fine. Will isn't particularly happy about it, I had him do the sealing, over and over. Of course, it could be that the letter got intercepted, and someone other than you opened the envelope, and I haven't created an enchantment againstthat - but we’re both relatively confident in the postal system._

_The conference went fine, I think you would have liked it. But it’s not over. Turns out someone's trying their hand at creating the philosopher’s stone again, and they don’t look like they care much about the whole human sacrifices part. Might actually be enthusiastic about it. You know, as always. Will and I are tracking her down with Jane right now - heading to Yarra, actually. They must having a bargain sale on human sacrifices down under._

_I took the liberty of contacting Julia for you, and she’s kindly agreed to come down to Faris. It should be a day’s travel away, so that should cut down on your travel time, and let you two rejoin us in Yarra quickly. She’ll be waiting at the tavern._

_Tell Ethan he better still remember how to be human, and that we’ll see him soon._

_Luther_

_P.S._ (and here the writing narrows to a neat scrawl, clearly Will’s) _If you’re short on money, just drop by the bank. I deposited about a hundred gold in your name._

There’s so many things Benji could to focus on. He’s always been enthusiastic about the new enchantments Luther creates, and the alchemy conference sounds incredibly interesting. He also has never been to Yarra, as dry as a desert but without the sand - only red rock upon parched ground, cracks running deep and dark and dangerous. It’s where excavators go, hoping to discover a vein of gold to call theirs, or some long lost civilization in its depths; it's where criminals go, where shadows casted shadows better conceals their activity. He could also focus on Will and his pragmatic concerns, the way he shows his affection for his team - by keeping them healthy and alive.

Yes, he could have focused on all that, he would have - but all he can see is Julia, _agreed to come down to Faris_ and a day’s travel away.

His mouth feels dry. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling so bereft, like the winds on the mountains has returned and swept everything his body contains away. It’s ridiculous, it’s stupid. He knows that it would have ended the moment they reach the gates of Mehad, that Ruthen marks the near conclusion of their travels together, the beginning of the last act. Mehad, back to Ruthen and then to Yarra - and Ethan would still be next to Benji, they’d still be friends, and Benji would have lost entirely nothing. 

Benji has gained nothing from this journey - only the comfortable presence of Ethan as they traveled from town to town, only memories - but Ethan and him, they have always been friends, and always will be.

That is enough. It must be enough. It must always be enough.

So Julia’s down in Faris and she’s only one day's travel away - and that’s good news, isn’t it? Ethan only has to spend one more day on all fours, one more day unable to speak - and he’ll be back to human. That’s the point of the journey, the end goal, the destination. There’s a sudden deep shame that wells up from Benji, deep in his gut and up to his throat: he had wanted to stay like this, with Ethan as a wolf, and Julia on the other side of the continent if he could wish it so. He has no right to be so selfish about his own envy of Julia for being the recipient of Ethan’s affections, not when Julia has done nothing to Benji and has been nothing but good to Ethan.

He has no right, and if he tells himself that often enough, maybe his stupid traitorous heart would believe it.

“Finally some good news!” Benji forces himself to say cheerfully, and keeps his eyes trained on the letter as if he’s reading it again. He will not let Ethan suspect, will not let Ethan bear the weight of Benji’s feelings when Ethan has only ever been Benji’s friend. “I thought I’d have to freeze my balls off for another two weeks.”

He chances a quick glance at Ethan, who’s looking at Benji instead. That won’t do. Benji folds the letter back into the envelope and gets to his feet, and schools his grin into something less than maniacal. 

“If we set out tonight, we can get to Faris by tomorrow evening,” he says. “One more day on the road is nothing compared to being able to stand on two legs, yeah?”

A step. Two. Keep the letter, and keep walking. Faris is only so far away.

There’s no rustle of fur next to him. Benji turns back, and Ethan stares at him. He still hasn’t moved from the spot where he had sat next to Benji, where Benji had pet his head.

“Ethan?” Benji says, and can only be grimly proud that his voice did not waver.

There’s a slight whine before it cuts off sharp, aborted - and Ethan gets up, padding over to Benji. His tail hangs low, between his legs - and why isn’t Ethan happy? Why?

“Ethan,” Benji says again, but Ethan walks past him, towards the town gates. “Ethan.” 

Ethan does not look back. The message is clear.

* * *

The road to Faris winds through the woods, the trees forming a veritable wall when Benji first sees it. The path is well-trodden, but stretches long and deep into the depths of the woods, to the point where Benji wonders if they are truly walking the right way, or if they would get lost for the rest of their days, never to see civilization again.

They’re both quiet, on this last journey before Julia. Benji does not speak, does not offer anecdotes or musings or anything that crosses his mind. It would mortify him forever, to tell Ethan of his concerns, to express his wishes for a little more time for them to travel together, just the two of them, man and wolf. Ethan himself does not seem to want any conversation, silently treading through the snow, entirely focused.

It’s quiet and uncomfortable, and Benji cannot bear to ask Ethan why. 

The sun sets quickly, and they set up camp in silence - Benji starting the fire, one final time, and Ethan clearing out the snow for some rest. It’s probably entirely foolish of Benji to have them set out so late in the day, when they could have made their way to Faris in the daylight the following day - but Benji can’t quite bear the wait, of sleeping on the knowledge that Ethan would meet Julia soon. At least with this, Benji could use Julia as a distraction for Ethan when they finally reach, and then go and have a good sob far away from the tavern.

It’ll be grand, all snotty and heart-wrenching. He’d tell Jane all about it later, when he sees her. She’ll understand.

He gets the fire going, and sits himself down. His bones are tired, the cold leeching in inch by inch, and he only wishes it would reach his heart so he could stop feeling things. It would be preferable to this sharp ache in his chest.

Across him, Ethan hovers, his tail flicking from side to side, indecisive. 

Ah, Benji realizes, remembering their sleeping routine for the entirety of the previous week. It would be awkward now, maybe, to curl into Ethan for warmth. Ethan seems to be contemplating the same thing, and Benji wonders why he couldn’t have acted more consciously to prevent this chasm between them from forming - even if he doesn’t know exactly where he went so wrong.

But Benji could be selfish, just for one more day, couldn’t he? And Ethan would never know.

“I’m going to miss your fur,” he says into the fire, the embers leaping and crackling, reflected in Ethan’s dark eyes. A lousy attempt at a joke. “It’s… it’s really warm.”

Ethan doesn’t move, for a while. Benji smiles at him, a quirk of his lips less than an actual smile, before settling down against the cold hard ground. He won’t die from the cold, he reminds himself - it had been Ethan’s kindness to provide Benji with a living heater.

And it’s Ethan’s kindness now, he supposes when he finally hears Ethan move closer, and closer, and curl himself around Benji just like before. One last time.

“G’night, Ethan,” Benji mumbles into the mass of fur, fiercely glad that despite whatever went wrong they would still be friends. He’ll talk it out with Ethan later, right after he has his cry.

Ethan rumbles, low and slow, the last thing Benji hears as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

It takes the crunch of a footfall in the snow, and Benji is suddenly awake.

Ethan is on his feet, growling loudly. The sound carries throughout the woods, sending Benji’s instincts singing with danger: A warning, a threat - a message to go away, to not approach. The darkness of the woods presses in close around them, the fire Benji built having dimmed to smoldering embers - and he sees nothing, not with his human eyes.

He won’t be much use in an ambush if he cannot see. Benji flexes his hand, drawing all the warmth he can from the chilly air of the woods - before snapping his fingers and bringing his hand down onto the campfire.

The fire blazes up into the night sky, melting all the ice about to form across Benji’s face, and Benji dives for his rucksack just as Ethan leaps forward and barrels into the hooded form of a man.

The sack of ensorcelled stones is easily acquired from where Benji keeps it at the top of the rucksack, Will having complained his ears off about being prepared. He leaves the slingshot, more of a hindrance in close combat, and rolls to the side in anticipation - sure enough, another hooded figure lurches forward at the spot Benji was crouching at, a dirk gleaming dully in the firelight as it’s driven hard into the ground. Robbers, perhaps, aiming to kill - Benji is not fond of taking lives but he knows when he has to return the favor.

Palming a stone, he assesses his options. Ethan is fighting two of them on the side, lunging forward with a snarl and backing off with every swipe of their blades. If Benji takes this one down, they’ll be able to even the odds.

Snow and trees and the dark surrounding. The fire rune would be little use in such a situation, the lightning rune too dangerous with the risk of starting a forest fire. Ice, perhaps - but Benji has yet to carve a new stone from when he used it months ago. Procrastination has truly bit him on the arse this time. 

The figure pulls the dirk out from the ground, and Benji reconsiders. He doesn’t need to defeat his opponent thoroughly, just enough to put him out of commission for a while. 

The dark it is, then. He pulls the stone out of the sack, dragging his thumb along the carved lines of the rune. The stone grows heavier and heavier in his hand, like a sea-sponge absorbing water. The figure rushes forward, dirk ready to stab Benji in the side, and Benji feints towards the left. The blade goes wide as it follows the trajectory of Benji’s path, as Benji corrects himself to dart in close and slam the stone right between their eyes.

As soon as his fingers uncurl, the rune implodes.

Darkness rushes into the space where the stone had been, and the figure staggers away to claw at their eyes, at an insubstantial blindfold. Benji takes the opportunity to dart forward under a flailing arm for the dirk on the ground, taking care to use his other hand - his left hand is still stained by the dark, practically invisible, and Benji doesn’t care to lose the dirk to the darkness. He pushes the figure and sends them sprawling in the direction of the woods - with any luck, they’ll wander off in the wrong direction or into the path of a blade.

Two against two now, with the hood ripped off from one of them - Vinter, with his cold eyes and smile. Benji joins the fray with the dirk held up in front of him, stepping right up next to Ethan. It's an unfamiliar weight in his hand, especially when he prefers slinging stones from afar - but he doesn’t want to retreat and possibly get lost in the woods, and have Ethan find him frozen to death the next morning.

“You really came all the way out here for my dog?” Benji asks.

“Should have taken the deal when it was offered, boy,” Vinter sneers.

“Should have learnt to take no for an answer,” Benji shoots back, and draws sharply to the right when Vinter launches himself at him.

Ethan snarls again, and tackles Vinter. The air is suffused with the scent of blood as his teeth scores through Vinter’s left arm, cutting through skin and flesh and sending Vinter howling curses of his own as he slams a fist into Ethan’s head. Ethan staggers backwards with a whine, and Benji dashes forward as Vinter’s lackey attempts his own blow while Ethan is vulnerable.

The dirk sinks in at an awkward angle, hitting resistance in the form of the ribcage and scoring off to the side. Blood splatters onto the white snow, dark drops flinging into the distance, and Benji jerks the blade away and back towards himself.

The figure - no, a woman cries out. Not the caster from the alley, Benji thinks grimly. Good.

He doesn’t have much time to consider his next move - not when Vinter suddenly barrels into him, curling an arm across his neck and dragging him backwards. Benji claws at the meaty arm digging into his throat, dropping the dirk in his surprise - but the arm is unmoving despite all his attempts to dig his fingers into the flesh to pry Vinter off.

“Should have chosen your life,” Vinter grunts, and stabs Benji in the stomach.

There’s a sound, of air being sucked into his mouth, an ‘ _ah_ ’ that Benji never thought he would ever make. It feels like Vinter punched him in the stomach, but Benji can feel the edge of the blade as it slides out, feel the trickle of blood as it seeps into his clothes. 

_I might die_ , Benji realizes.

There’s a growl, or a snarl, or something dark and furious and far away. There’s the sound of shouting under the ringing in Benji’s ears, of Ethan leaping onto the woman and ripping her throat out in one smooth motion, red dripping from his snout, of him turning on Benji and stalking closer, like a wolf.

Like a real wolf.

Vinter is gripping him by the shoulder, shaking him in front of Ethan, but Benji can’t understand the words he’s saying to Ethan, to Benji, to anyone. His legs give out on him, and his body is slumping to the side - and Vinter loses his grip on Benji, leaving him wide open for Ethan to take a leap forward and attack. The man jerks back, but not far enough - and there’s the ripping of cloth as Ethan tears off a good chunk of Vinter’s coat and leaving a deep bloody wound right in the middle of his chest.

Ethan snarls, right in Vinter’s face, and Vinter flinches - all too human, entirely afraid, stinking of death. 

“Ethan,” Benji calls out. Ethan growls at the sound of his name, still looking at Vinter, still ready to rip out his throat for good measure. “Ethan.”

Fangs bared.

“Ethan,” Benji says, because there is killing in self-defense, killing for the good of the populace, and there is killing because you can, hurting because you can. 

_Tell Ethan he better still remember how to be human_ , Luther had written, and Benji doesn’t want to be the reason Ethan forgets.

“Ethan, please.”

And finally, Ethan turns away from Vinter, turns away from hurting a man who is dying in the snow, and pads over to Benji. His eyes are still wild, his ears still pricked, but he snuffs at Benji’s hands and Benji curls his fingers over the wet nose.

“Go to Julia,” Benji croaks out. The wound throbs in his abdomen, and he’s so tired. “Go.”

Ethan whines, sharp and high, before ducking repeatedly. It takes a few moments before he realizes that Ethan wants him to sling his arm around the scruff of his neck, to hold on.

“Slow you down,” he grunts, but Ethan growls. Benji grips a clump of fur, and drags himself onto Ethan’s back, his muscles screaming at him.

He’s a fool for ever thinking Ethan would leave him behind.

_Hold on tight_ , something says, and it sounds a bit like Ethan’s voice, one he hasn’t heard in two months. _Hold on, Benji_.

Ethan shifts, getting to his feet, and begins to run. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The origin of this story is basically in the part where I was prompted 'graphic violence very welcome'. This is not as graphic as I expected, but I suppose I'm satisfied.
> 
> Question:
> 
> Why didn't Benji just start campfires with his magic?
> 
> Because the way magic works in this world is basically you gather the element in one spot, and then manifest it. So sure a fire might start, but you might lose a toe or two if you rely too much on it, since all the heat is concentrated at that spot.
> 
> ....or I have terrible world building. Take your pick.
> 
> One more chapter to go, and hopefully it'll be posted by the end of this year! Haha. haha. ha.

**Author's Note:**

> I assure u the pining is very much mutual and they're both idiots.


End file.
